Dark Omen – A Bizarre Short-Story

It all started in the morning when I was sitting before the window, staring through the grills of it and thinking something which was vague. What that was I was thinking, I too cannot answer, for I forgot everything except for the posture I was in, till the little kid with smiles came an stood beside me. The faint early morning light was falling upon me through the window and I was glowing gold. I was sitting slant on the chair, which was just beside my bed, which was unmade, may be from the love I made the night before. Or, from the love I made a couple of nights before. But she wasn’t there; my girl wasn’t there. Where has she been, it is like I don’t want to remember. I didn’t seem particularly cheerful. No, I was not cheerful. I was like, I was in a trouble, but what that is, I don’t know. I could feel the lump. One leg of mine is slant and straight, another was folded back. I was looking blank and strained, I couldn’t say what was wrong.

Someone from the behind has tapped me on the shoulder, and I suddenly sat straight and turned back. She was right before me. My little, little child, with her huge warm smile. Little eyes, soft skin, tiny teeth, very cute. Is she my own child, or? I don’t remember. But somehow, I can feel she is mine.

“What is it, dear. What makes you so happy?” I try to ask cheerfully, not to affect her happiness with my grim words.

“They both came,” she says, happy to help me, her dad, may be. But somehow, it doesn’t, to me, seem like a good news.

They were there, one of them standing at the door, with a tooth pick in his mouth, staring at the flooring and the other guy, the one with a huge beard and a hood over his head was strolling over the room, looking at the the pictures which were hanging on the walls.

“Hey, bhai,” I said, looking at the guy who was standing at the door. The one who was strolling over the room didn’t bother me.

“Hello,” the standing guy said. “How are days.”

“Great until you came into my life,” I wanted to say, but I didn’t.

“I know, I know,” he said, like he heard my heart. “That is something everyone says.”

“Quit this,” the beard guy said, removing his hoodie from his head. “Shall we go in?”

They were sitting on my bed. The bed on which I made love to my girl a couple of nights before. “I love this place,” the guy with no beard said. “What about you, Guru?”

The guy with the beard, having some stick in his mouth which was fuming with smokes just nodded his head. He hung his head, closed his eyes and said, in a slow, dizzy tone, “I like this place maccha.” It was in a very ominous tone.

The other guy laughed out loud, and my spine was shivering. I didn’t know what was happening. “Don’t worry maccha, it will be.”

“I used to come here from Goa,” Guru said, caressing his long beard, walking in the street. “Here, we find stuff like nowhere else.” I was coming from a temple, as better as I remember, we were walking from a temple.

It was night, I don’t know what was happening. I should find her, like, yes, I should be. She was missing since the past three days. It has been three nights since I made love to her. Or is it just yesterday? I don’t know. The streets were dark except for the orange street lights, and yellow front lights of the vehicles.

The vehicles were zooming off too fast. I was frightened some or the other truck will strike me to death. The world is like it was whirling; like it is drunk. The horns were killing me. What was the time? 12:30 in the night? I don’t know, or it just might be 07:00 in the evening. I can’t be really sure.

Then I saw her. My girl. On the other side of the road. She is standing, no, she is lurking in the shadows, like she is hiding from someone, or, from me. “Neha,” I screamed. She heard it, or I think she did. Along with her some other woman was also standing. “Neha,”

I screamed again. She saw me.

A strange fear in her eyes.

She is frightened.

I started crossing the road as quick as possible. Cars were skidding down, lights were blinding me, trucks were honking hard, but I couldn’t stop, I want my Neha back.

She was standing with some packets in her hand in the dark. In the little plastic packets there is something, a white powder kind of a thing, which I see with the guys who came this morning to my home. “Neha,” screamed I and she suddenly started running. What is she doing? She is selling that thing?

She was running. She wants to escape from me?

I ran behind. I am not able to understand what has happened.

She ran.

She suddenly stopped, “Don’t come.”

I was about to open my mouth to say something. Vehicles were passing between us. We were on a very busy road. But we stood still. She took out a pocket knife out of her pocket.

“I will kill myself,” she said.

Tears gushed out of my eyes. What has happened to my life? What has happened to my family? Why has my girl become like this? She is having some powder in her hands and she is lurking in the dark and trading it to people, she is threatening that she will kill herself if ‘I’ go near, what kind of a fate is mine?

“Our child is waiting,” I wanted to say, but, before I could complete the statement, she cut her wrist with the knife. A streak of blood spurt off her hand.

My heart felt numb.

My legs were running already, and I caught her by the other hand. “Let’s go to a hospital, please,” I pleaded, but she was like a mad woman, screaming and shouting to let her go.

“If you don’t come, I will cut my hand too.” I said, with tears welling out.

She wasn’t listening. But I know she loves me.

I left her hand and she became passive suddenly. I walked towards a store there is nearby. I asked for a blade. I left a ten rupee note there.

I took the blade out of its cover and, raised my right hand to cut my left.

Just a moment, I would have cut my hand. But she held it.

“I will come to the hospital,” she said.

I was sitting in the corridor of the hospital. The lights were dim and dumb. The hospital is rotating. I was swaying in the air. The roofs are becoming floors and the walls are becoming the roofs and the floors becoming the walls. I was sitting on the walls, I was sitting on the roof, with head down. Hahaha. She is inside the room, someone doing something to her.

May be curing her, I hope.

No, I am not talking about her hand cut.

Her madness.

It all started in the morning when I was sitting before the window, staring through the grills of it and thinking something which was vague. What that was I was thinking, I too cannot answer, for I forgot everything except for the posture I was in, till the little kid with smiles came an stood beside me. The faint early morning light was falling upon me through the window and I was glowing gold. I was sitting slant on the chair, which was just beside my bed, which was unmade, may be from the love I made the night before. Or, from the love I made a couple of nights before. But she wasn’t there; my girl wasn’t there. Where has she been, it is like I don’t want to remember. I didn’t seem particularly cheerful. No, I was not cheerful. I was like, I was in a trouble, but what that is, I don’t know. I could feel the lump. One leg of mine is slant and straight, another was folded back. I was looking blank and strained, I couldn’t say what was wrong.

Someone from the behind has tapped me on the shoulder, and I suddenly sat straight and turned back. She was right before me. My little, little child, with her huge warm smile. Little eyes, soft skin, tiny teeth, very cute. Is she my own child, or? I don’t remember. But somehow, I can feel she is mine.

“What is it, dear. What makes you so happy?” I try to ask cheerfully, not to affect her happiness with my grim words.

“They came,” she says, happy to help me, her dad, may be. But somehow, I didn’t know how to face them.

I walked out of the room, my little child following me. I walked down the steps, my little girl following me. And in the hall, an elderly woman and an elderly man with a young boy were waiting. They saw me, and for a moment, I thought the pain in their eyes will kill me.

“What happened to her?” the elderly woman asked, at the verge of breaking down.

“She is fine,” I said, my head down.

“But what has happened?” the elderly man asked, and immediately, the elderly woman has echoed his question with a sob so deep, I didn’t want to stay before them and run off.

“What is it that is happening to our beloved daughter?” she screamed.

“I don’t know.”

“Is it the same you say to that little child about her mother?”

I turned back, my child wasn’t there.

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